


An Ode to the Strangers

by GrimmStormborn



Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel), PlayChoices
Genre: F/M, Gen, angsty, i apologise in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmStormborn/pseuds/GrimmStormborn
Summary: She doesn’t know who they are, but they comfort her in ways she never imagined possible. And for that, she writes an ode to the strangers.





	An Ode to the Strangers

**An Ode to the Strangers**

**Based on:** Endless Summer (and hints of TF/TS)

 **Pairing:** All characters|Platonic + Jake x Female!MC (Myra)

 **Warning:** Several character deaths. **Very** angsty. ~~I don’t know why I wrote this.~~

 **Summary:** She doesn’t know who they are, but they comfort her in ways she never imagined possible. And for that, she writes an ode to the strangers.

 **Disclaimer:** All characters mentioned belong to Pixelberry. Excerpts of poem are from _To A Stranger_ by Walt Whitman.

**Author’s Notes:**

  1. Assumption #1: Flash forward scenes of each idol came true. MC is the sole survivor. (Yes, even my cinnamon roll Quinn died. Please don’t kill me.)
  2. Assumption #2: All 11 of them, and La Huerta itself, simply ceased to exist after the events at the island. Remember how Hermione used the Obliviate charm on her parents and erased her existence? Just like that.
  3. This is LONG. I apologise for the length beforehand. I couldn’t break them off into separate parts because I felt it’d lack the flow of a one-shot.
  4. And because it's so long, I had to post this on Ao3. The [Keep Reading] link will automatically lead you there.
  5. If you manage to read the entire fic (bless you), please read the **Notes at the end**.



* * *

 

 _Passing stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you,_  
_You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)_  
_I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you_

*******

Do you ever feel a connection with a stranger?

As if you know them, and have known them for a long, long time?

A flash of déjà vu and you find yourself pulled to them for no rhyme or reason?

Or perhaps it’s just me.

The first time I felt this.. _pull_ , it was at the hospital. Day in and day out, the doctors and nurses would poke and prod me, frustrating me to no end.

“Listen, I _told_ you. I have no memory of what happened! I was in the car with Dad, driving over to Hartfeld, our mini-van crashed into another car, and then, nothing!” I repeated for the nth time to the therapist in front of me.

She had a kind face, and a soft smile. But even then, she was getting on my nerves. She kept repeating to me that the accident I speak of had happened _four_ years ago, and that I had actually been found unconscious in my dorm more than two months ago. I had apparently been packing for a trip I had won to some island, and when my sister had come to fetch me to the airport, I had been found sprawled on the ground next to my bed, barely breathing. I was in a coma.  As soon as I had woken up from the month-long coma, I had asked my father about whether my enrolment at Hartfeld university had been deferred because of this accident…and it had only then occurred to them that I had had a memory loss.

It had been six weeks since I had woken up from my coma. Ever since, it was a daily occurrence, this damn therapy session. I am all for pouring one’s heart and get the professional help when needed, but there was only one problem: I _don’t_ have anything to pour out to her. I felt a strange sense of disconnection, but I figured that was because I had just lost four years’ worth of memories. Other than that, nothing. I almost felt…empty? Devoid of emotions?

By the time the therapist had left that day, I was irked more than usual. Her attempts were futile. I wasn’t going to remember anything, and I’d have to actually repeat all four years of my college, which, as you might have guessed, was going to be a pain.

With a low growl of irritation, I slipped off the bed. With the help of a walking stick I had been given, I sort of hobbled my way out of my ward. I needed some fresh air.

I had just been passing by a group of young doctors, all huddled around their senior doctor, when I saw her.

Long, bright tresses that I immediately both admired and envied. Bright, brown eyes, which had been eagerly trained on the senior doctor as he talked about the patient they were looking at, turned to me. She first scowled, and then gave me a warm smile.

Again. Remember the _pull_? The connection? I felt that, for the very first time.

I returned the smile, the first time I had done so since I had woken up from the coma more than a month ago.

She walked towards me, and just as she was about to reach me, she turned away, towards the corridor that led to the waiting room. Curious, I followed her as fast as my weak legs would let me. I wasn’t sure if she realised my condition, but she seemed to walk slowly as well, glancing back at me once in a while, as if making sure I was still there.

I wasn’t even sure where she was bringing me, or if I should even be following her, but I never stopped. I followed her all the way to the…

“… _Cafeteria?_ ” I blurted out as I stood before the hospital’s café.

With a big grin, she entered the cafeteria right behind someone. At this point, I was just confused. She led me to a cafeteria…and I followed her. Weird.

“Myra!”

I turned around to see my older sister rush over to me, concerned.

“What are you _doing_? You aren’t supposed to come this far all alone!” she prattled on, and I had to stop her so she could catch her breath.

“Sasha, calm down. I just wanted some fresh air. I am not running away,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Sasha narrowed her eyes at me, but eventually relented. “Fine. I was just about to get you something to eat anyway. You must be bored of the porridge they feed you every day,” she said, and I snorted.

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Shut up. Now come on, I will get you something. What do you wan- oh, look! They seem to be having a brunch offer now. I’ll get you some of that!” Sasha went on, and led me into the café.

Almost in a daze, I followed her. Brunch. Huh. Odd that _brunch_ should sound so comforting to me (I was more of an all-day breakfast sorta girl), but it did. I gazed around the almost empty café, with patients and their relatives here and there…but not the young doctor I had seen. She was nowhere to be found, which was puzzling since I never saw her leaving. I chewed on my lip, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia.

I had a decent brunch that day (the best that a hotel cafeteria could provide, really), and my tongue was finally _tasting_ something. But what truly stayed in my mind for the rest of the day was the young girl in the doctor’s garb. Till the day I left the hospital, I had hoped to see her again, but I never did.

 

* * *

 

“You are going to this party. And that’s that.”

I glared at Sasha from where I had my face half-buried in my bowl of popcorn.

“You can’t force me, Sasha. I said I don’t want to go to this stupid party. It’s so noisy. And full of…people,” I retorted.

It had been four months since I had gotten discharged from the hospital. I was healthy, doing well, and back in Hartfeld. I still hadn’t gotten my memory back, but my doctor seemed to think I would eventually.

And still, I wasn’t feeling the stress of having lost my memory. I seemed to have made friends over my four years at the school, none of whom I remember, but they seemed to know me and chatted quite often with me. That’s about as far as my social life went.

“Myra, other than your classes and the dorm, you literally don’t go anywhere, and I _cannot_ have that. You seem like a shadow of your old self and it’s killing me to see you like this. Listen, Kaitlyn, your new classmate from that band, she invited you, and she called me along. So we are going. Please. _Please._ ”

Sasha seemed determined, and also a little desperate, which wore me down. I hated how sad she seemed because I seemed so disconnected.

“I am literally going to be there for just an hour, and then you are driving me back,” I firmly told her.

“Deal,” she grinned.

Two hours and a few shots in, Sasha was giggling and dancing away, and I was barely drunk and bored. Why, why were parties always so _overrated?_ Blegh. It seemed as if I had forgotten to have fun.

“Myra! Come on, do some shots!” I heard Kaitlynn from the bar, and before I could refute, I heard the crowd go, “Myra! Myra! Myra! Myra!”

…did half of these people even _know_ me? Or did they just want to see me get drunk?

With a grimace, I trudged toward the bar. Clearly, I wasn’t going to get out of this one.

“Do I have to?” I asked Kaitlyn, and she grinned.

“Not gonna let you go till you do, love,” came her reply, and I saw Sasha in my peripheral vision, eagerly cheering on as well.

I made a face, and took a shot glass in my hand. Right before I brought it to my mouth, I looked up, and saw a stranger who got my attention almost immediately.

Dark-skinned, with curly black hair and an easy smile, the man seemed to be looking intently at me. He wasn’t cheering with the rest of the crowd, but his eyes were sparkling with an excitement so contagious, I felt it surge within me as well. Suddenly, I was returning his grin, and eagerly drowned my first shot. I did about four of them in a go, and was soon reeling. When I was done, my eyes sought him again. His lips were moving, and I realised he was chanting my name as well, though I couldn't hear his voice. A bubble of laughter rose within me. I found myself unable to stop myself after that. I began dancing and cheering, essentially being the life of the party. The change was sudden, even extreme, but I had never had that much of fun in _forever._

I lost the man in the crowd after that. My eyes looked for him over and over again for the rest of the night (and early morning), but I couldn’t see him. He had disappeared. When I had asked Kaitlyn about him a few days later, she seemed confused, not remembering a friend of similar description.

I was disappointed, but I never stopped hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of the same man – _friend_ – at every party I went to after that.

 

* * *

 

I saw the two of them in the Hartfeld library.

I had been furiously studying for my first ever bio-tech finals that were coming up in two days. I had completed studying for most of the chapters, but there was just one (there was always that _one,_ wasn’t there?) that I couldn’t wrap my head around. I knew the Professor had said that there was a book in the Science and Technology section of the library that would guide me better, but try as I might, I couldn’t find it, and neither was it turning up in the search engine.

Gritting my teeth, I ran my hand through my dark hair again, and got my fingers tangled into the mess that my hair resembled at that point. With a growl, I yanked my fingers out, not minding the pain, and twirled the pen in my fingers again.

‘Alright, for the very last time, browse the section again, and find something, _anything,_ that might help,’ I told myself, already wearing thin on patience.

I got up and walked to the section that I probably could find my way to from my dorm if I was blindfolded and hopping on one leg. I rounded the corner, and saw them.

A girl, with thick glasses, short, curly black hair and an orange sweater giggling away. Right behind her, a boy several inches taller than her, pale but with a healthy tinge of red to his cheeks, seemingly whispering into her ears.

The girl had noticed me first. As soon as she did, she gave me a bright smile, one that’d probably hurt my cheeks if I even tried to replicate it. And her eyes, oh, her eyes. They shone with so much of kindness, I almost knelt over with an emotion too intense. And behind her, the boy.

The boy had stopped smiling almost as soon as he had seen me. His face turned…sorrowful, and he looked to be somehow the opposite of the girl before him. His eyes seemed to shine with unshed tears, and I felt myself take a deep, shaky breath. His lips moved, as if he was speaking, but I heard nothing. All I could do, was see that he was mouthing two words: ‘I’m sorry.’

My first reaction should be confusion. Right? I should be taken aback as to why this absolute stranger was _apologising_ to me.

Instead, I found myself whispering back, “It’s okay.”

I blinked, feeling a tear roll down my cheek, and they were gone.

Right behind where they had stood, sat the book I had been searching for high and low.

Needless to say, I aced my bio-tech paper that I sat for a couple of days later.

But every time I stepped into the library since then, I found myself lingering around the Science and Technology section, hoping to chance upon the couple one more time.

 

* * *

 

I had been feeling particularly down that day. I had had another fight with my father that morning. I wanted to move into an apartment, but he wasn’t having any of it. He kept insisting that it’d be ‘safer’ for me to stay in the dorms. I called BS on it, and he lost his temper.

Oh well. It was nothing new. I had wandered out of my classroom and to the park near the campus, deciding to skip my next lesson. I was tired, both physically and mentally, and I figured it’d do me good to clear my mind before I try to even understand my lessons.

It had been a bright day out, students miling around, with the occasional one or two professors passing by me. With a deep sigh, I headed towards the fountain in the middle of the park, when I noticed a sudden flash of red. Bewildered, and looked around, till I spotted the only redhead within a few feet of me.

She was beautiful. Heck, even that was an understatement. She looked ethereal, and before I knew it, I found myself walking towards her. I took a seat at the chess table, and she sat opposite me. Her sweet smile never faltered even once.

“Hi,” I quietly greeted her, and her smile widened. She said nothing more.

“Do you…want to play chess?”

Sometimes, my methods of breaking the ice truly _astounded_ me.

She seemed to be giggling. And then she shook her head. She simply pointed to the table again, and I looked down.

I saw a lone chess piece in the middle. How did it even get there? Puzzled, I grabbed it. It was the queen piece.

_“…Be the queen you always carried inside you.”_

The words, muffled but clear enough, echoed in my head. My grip on the queen piece tightened.

“Wha…what?” I gasped, and looked up again, alarmed at the sudden intrusion in my head. I expected to see the redhead, but was instead staring at Kaitlyn Liao.

“Myra, you seem upset. You alright? Shall I give Sasha a call?” she asked, concerned etched on her face.

“No, no. I’m fine! I just..I thought I saw someone,” I said, feeling my heart sink. Where was the beautiful redhead? I wanted to see her again. I looked around the park, trying to seem casual, but didn’t catch her.

“Looking for someone?” Kaitlyn pressed, and I shook my head.

“No…we…should head to class, yeah?” I suggested, giving her a small smile as I stood up.

“Sure. You can leave the chess piece there, by the way” Kaitlyn said pointing to the small pouch next to the chess table, referring to the queen piece I still had in my grip.

I glanced at old, almost broken piece in my hand.

“…It’s mine,” I whispered.

The chess piece never left my purse ever since then.

 

* * *

 

It was one of those days where I just wanted to lay in bed and do nothing all day. My load of assignments weren’t lessening by any chance, and yet I couldn’t bring my lazy ass to work on them.

Somehow, I managed to drag myself out of the bed because I couldn’t withstand my hunger any more. I scuffled to the kitchen, poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms and made my way to the living room. I plopped down heavily on the couch and started browsing the channels, one after the other, absent-mindedly.

I was dissociating. I knew it. I just wasn’t feeling anything. I’d have called Sasha, but she was out of town, on a vacation with her boyfriend, and I didn’t want to disturb her. I was still on bad terms with my dad, so that was out. My friends were probably in lessons, like any other normal student, so not them. I could’ve called my therapist…but I just wasn’t ready to hear her overly sweet voice now. No. That would not make me feel alive.

So I decided to play some video games instead. My flatmate owned the PS4, but I rarely used it. I figured if nothing else worked, I might as well try playing a game and try to at least _feel_ something, no? So I hooked up the wires and started the system.

Just as I settled down on the couch with the game console, I saw something move in my peripheral vision, and realised there were two silhouettes on either sides me. I shrieked and jumped up, turning around to look at them both. The girl had a half shaven head, purple streaks running through her otherwise black hair. She was smirking at my clear distress.

On the other side, sat a boy who took up more than his part of the couch, shooting a lazy grin at me. Both of them looked at each other, shared a fist bump, and then looked back at me again.

I was convinced I was hallucinating. Just as I had been in the park a month ago when I met the redhead. How else would two strangers suddenly appear next to me, in my flat, when the door was shut and locked?!

Behind me, the speakers blared out the tune I was used to hearing when my flatmate played her games. I looked from the two strangers to the tv screen, and did something I never thought I’d do in the given situation: I settled back down on the couch. Clearly, I was out of my mind, and no longer in control.

The _pull._ I could never fight it.

The two strangers didn’t seem to find anything out of ordinary. Instead, they watched as I started the game (the girl seemed _very_ ecstatic when I chose _Aeternum Chronicles: Legend of the 7 Crystals_ ). I spent three hours straight on that game, both of the strangers next to me silently cheering me on, the only thing that indicated their excitement being their almost violent body movements as I continued playing the game. By the time I was done, I was red in the face from having laughed so hard, both at the thrill of the game, and at the antics of the silent couple who were keeping me company.

They stuck around for a long time, till my flatmate came back. One moment they were there, and the next, they weren’t.

It was tough to say that I missed them after that. Because every time I played a video game then on (much to my flatmate’s surprise), I felt alive, and somehow closer to them. And I was happy with that.

 

* * *

 

You know the feeling you get when you are running five miles a day, lifting weights, and practicing yoga? That warm, healthy glow?

I’ve never felt that.

I barely went to the gym, and if I could help it, I even tried not to run around the campus. I liked being lazy.

That was, till my doctor mentioned that I better take up a sport in college during one of the routine check-ups. Apparently my muscles were still weak, and so were my lungs. The right kind of exercise could possibly improve my health.

And so, after much persuasion from Dad and Sasha, I joined the Amateur Kickboxing Club. I figured, if I were to put myself through the pains of working out, I might as well learn some self-defence out of it.  And so there I was, running on the treadmill, third lesson of the semester and already regretting everything. Perhaps I could just stop coming from the next lesson onwards? Better yet, what if I just slipped away unnoticed by the coach right then?

But the coach kept his eyes trained on me (had he realised that I was a flight-risk?), and I had no choice but to keep pushing myself. Halfway through the lesson, while everyone else was still building up, learning, and working out, I was on the floor, trying to catch my breath, at the verge of giving up. I could just tell the coach my lungs were burning too much, I couldn’t breathe, and he’d let me go. I did have the medical history to prove it. It’d be so easy.

And I made a decision to do just that. I made to get up, when I saw the shadow next to me. My head whipped to the side, and I saw her sitting next to me, obviously pissed.

Her black hair was tied in a neat ponytail, and her eyes pierced into me. A long scar ran down her face, and I was mesmerised by it. I wanted to reach out and trace the line – somehow, it seemed to add to the girl’s breath-taking beauty. I stood there, fixated with her gaze, when she suddenly stood up and walked to the treadmill I had just occupied. Her arms crossed, she had an eyebrow raised as she tapped her foot.

By right, I could’ve easily ignored her and walked away. But I didn’t. Instead, I got up and went back to the treadmill. I began to jog, almost as if I was in a trance. My eyes never left hers. If I quit now, I knew this stranger would be disappointed. And very, very angry. She went nowhere for the entire time I was training that day, eyes intense as she looked at me, as if to say that I couldn’t give up, not at that point.

She was there at every lesson since then. This stranger seemed to fuel me with an energy, an _anger_ , like no other. More often than not, I’d get flashes of a gunshot, I’d see the same girl on the floor, bleeding and dragging herself across the carpet, and my energy would redouble. My anger would intensify. My kicks became more precise. And I became healthier.

As I gained momentum in the kickboxing practices, I saw less and less of her, till one day, I stopped seeing her in my lessons at all. It made me wonder if I had simply made the girl up in my head, but the memories pertaining to her had been far, far too real and disturbing. Sometimes, I’d think of bringing this to the therapist, to talk about it. But I never did. I kept the memory buried deep within me, letting it fuel an anger that only reared its head when I saw or heard of an act of injustice.

I figured that was one way I could keep the memory of that beautiful stranger alive in me, even if I never saw her often. To keep fighting, both literally and figuratively.

 

* * *

 

I was running late that day. Again.

You’d think sleeping on time meant I’d be able to get up on time the next morning, but no. I had woken up late once again, and was now dashing across the campus to my environmental sciences lesson.

And that was how I bumped into the poor boy. I ran straight into someone (it felt more like a wall of muscle), which made me bounce back a little with a loud ‘oof!’. When I recollected myself again, I saw a boy picking his books and papers up, struggling to do so thanks to the wind. I had half mind to simply take off, but I felt bad. So I began to help him gather his papers and books, and straightened up to pass them to him.

“Here. And I’m sorry, I had been rushing for my lesson and hadn’t seen you,” I said.

“That’s alright. I was here on a campus tour, and I totally lost the group,” the boy admitted with a sheepish smile, and I found myself returning a reassuring one at him.

“Do you want me to bring you to the admission office? They’d probably know where the group is or at least keep you company till the group gets back,” I suggested before I could stop myself. I should be on my way to my class right now, but something about him made me stay. “I’m Myra, by the way. Myra Colton.”

“Alex Gayle,” the boy answered.

“Gayle…huh…” I trailed off, finding the name a little too familiar.

“Yeah, my dad used to be a huge sports star,” Alex said, feeling almost ashamed to admit it.

“Is he Sean Gayle?” I asked.

“Sean? No, dad’s Marcus Gayle. You must have mistaken him for someone else,” Alex laughed.

I apologised to him, grateful that he didn’t seem offended. I began wondering how I knew the name Sean, though. Did I just make it up? Why did I feel a sense of happiness when I mentioned the name, then?

“Anyway, I need to get to the admission office…” I heard Alex, and I snapped out of my reverie.

“Of course, here,” I said and led him to the office.

I was about to part ways with Alex, when my eyes fell on him. He looked just like Alex, only much taller, with a more relaxed stance and eyes that shone with compassion. He looked from Alex to me, with a deep sense of melancholy set in his handsome features, and I felt my heart break.

I was vaguely aware of Alex talking, but I found it hard to focus on anything but the man standing a few feet behind him. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to tell him all was fine, and that’s things will work out for the best, and that he needn’t worry any more. I just –

“Myra?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, Alex?”

“I should go. I see the campus tour is wrapping up,” he said, nodding towards a group of teens and the student council president Chris Powell leading them.

“Of course, yes. Glad to meet you, Alex,” I said, shaking his hand and giving him a smile.

He walked past me, I glanced at the other, older boy again, and heard myself calling out to Alex. I turned around to look at him.

“You should come here. To Hartfeld. The football team could use someone like you. Besides, you have a friend here, now,” I offered, and I saw Alex's lips reflect my smile.

“I think I might see you around too, Myra,” he answered, before rushing off to the group.

When I turned back again, the older boy was gone.

It took me a while to recover from the sudden disappointment, but eventually, I managed to get to my class, almost 45 minutes late.

Alex Gayle did get enrolled at Hartfeld the next semester, though, and he and I became the best of friends. He became the brother I never had, and I felt myself leaning on him whenever I felt scared, when I just couldn’t fight the world anymore.

For some bizarre reason, I also often found myself taking comfort in the resemblance of Alex’s face to that older boy I had seen that day.

 

* * *

 

I loved the video store that was just around the corner of the street opposite the campus. They always had the latest releases, and more importantly, they had old movies as well. Ones from the 70s and 80s that I binge-watched most of the times (Sasha called me lame for that, but what does she know about classics?).

And for some odd reason, I felt a sense of familiarity  in the store. As if I had been there often before. Perhaps this had been a frequent hang-out place for me? I mean, it wouldn’t be a far stretch, really.

I was back again that Saturday afternoon to rent a movie. I was bored, completely uninspired to work on my assignments, and lazy to head to the party thrown in honour of the new football captain. So I decided I’d stay home and watch movies instead.

It had been a usual routine. I always browse the comedy section first, before moving on to the other sections. But this time, as soon as I entered, my legs carried me to the horror section. One that I mostly avoided if I could. It seemed as if I had lose control over my legs.

My fingers ran over the gory DVD covers, grazing one after the other, till it stopped at one cover.

The Ring.

Frowning, I grabbed the DVD and turned it over. Have I watched this before? I couldn’t place why I remembered the cover, the story, and most importantly, the ghost. I turned it over again and stared hard at the cover, and suddenly, I heard an echo of a shriek, and a laughter. I closed my eyes, and I saw flashes of a girl, of _me,_ running around dressed in a long white dress and a wig, chasing after a young man.

My eyes blinked open, and in the next moment, I was giggling. _Hard._ I was vaguely aware of the woman next to me move away, shooting me a weird glance. But I still couldn’t stop giggling. Still shaking with laughter, I felt a movement on the other side of me. I looked up, and right next to me, stood a boy who seemed painfully familiar, almost fitting the fuzzy image of the person I was chasing in the short blast of a memory.

Almost suddenly, I see a flash of blue behind him. It left almost as quickly as it came, but it seemed to have resembled a human. A blue human? Well, _now_ my eyes were definitely playing tricks on me.

The other boy, the one who was a little more focused, he had a beard, a contagious grin, and he seemed to be looking between me and the cover of the movie. He nodded his head, as if urging me to get it. I opened my mouth to speak, but…nothing. I couldn’t speak. I looked at him, dumb-founded, fighting an urge to reach out and pull him into a hug so tight, he couldn’t breathe.

I still refused to move away from the person standing next to me, and I suddenly felt my eyes well up. I wanted him to come home with me. I wanted him to watch this movie with me. I, essentially, wanted this stranger to be with me.

“Come home?” I whisper.

“I’m sorry?” came a deep voice from behind me, and I turn to see a one of my new classmates stand before me.

“Oh, hey, Zig. I just, hold on –“ I told him and turned back to find the stranger…

And he was no longer there.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “No!” I repeat, louder this time, looking around for the familiar face.

“Myra, is everything okay?” I heard Zig, and I wiped the tears that had spilled over before turning to him.

“I…yeah, yeah, I am. I just…er, getting a movie,” I chuckled, showing him the DVD. I stood around awkwardly for a moment or two, before I bid goodbye, paid for the movie and left.

I went back to my dorm and watched The Ring all alone, expecting to be scared out of my wits. Instead, every time the long-haired lady appeared on the TV screen, I _giggled._

Years later, when I’d watch it with my own family, I’d still giggle.

 

* * *

 

It was the summer of my third year of college. One long break before I get into the final grind of things, get my bachelor’s and take off to conquer the world.

Or, you know, fall into the pits of unemployment.  Whatever.

Sasha had dragged me to her favourite beach, the one where she had gotten engaged three months ago. She wanted to have a vacation herself, before she started planning for her wedding, and what better way to do that than bring your little sister to a beach full of hot people you couldn’t feast on because you were happily engaged?

“You know, I am ogling at these hotties more than you are. And you’re the single one,” Sasha commented, and I rolled my eyes.

“This book is too interesting, and I’m not as single as you think I am,” I retorted.

“My darling sis, going on two dates without making it official at any point doesn’t count as a relationship, either,” she pointed out with a smirk, and all I did was to stick my tongue out at her.

We settled into a comfortable silence, sprawled across our blankets and whiling our time away. Eventually, while she was on the phone with her fiancé, I wandered further down the beach, where it was less crowded and the water seemed clearer.

I took a deep breathe, and smiled. It had been far too long since I had visited a beach. It was more than refreshing. I stretched my hands out, letting the wind blow against me, wanting to taste a kind of freedom I barely remember, when I heard it.

A plane.

It was flying across the sky just above the sea, judging from the way the sound travelled. I did not open my eyes to catch it. I stayed where I was,  my heart beginning to thud faster, and I heard an echo of a gruff voice, shrouded by a veil of foggy memory –

_“Listen, Princess, don’tcha know it’s rude to wake someone who’s taking a nap?”_

With a gasp, my eyes shot open.

There he stood before me. A stranger so dear, so _intimate_ , and so…foreign. His light brown hair messy, tousled by the wind. His blue eyes so bright, it seemed to make the sea dull. His stance so easy, and relaxed, and inviting, I wanted to bolt into his arms.

He didn’t speak. He only looked on. He seemed to be drinking in the sight of me, as I was him. My arms were limp at my sides as I took one heavy step forward.

I couldn’t understand why, but I needed him. I needed him _so bad._ I knew he was going to disappear, just like the other strangers. But I just needed him to hold me once, just once, and I’d be content. Just a graze of his hand, or the warmth of his arms around me, just one more time…

“Please,” I whimpered, not realising that I was now crying.

He smiled then, his eyes sad and forlorn, and I felt something snap inside of me. As if a bloody dam broke. I let out a sob and begin to charge towards him, right into the sea.

“Myra! MYRA! STOP!” I heard Sasha, but I didn’t care. Just a little more, and I’d reach him…

I was pulled back with vigour, dragged back to the shore, kicking and screaming.

“Let me go, _let me go,_ I just want to see him! I miss him, Sasha; I miss him so much!” I wept in my sister’s arms, still struggling.

“Who is it? Who do you miss?!” she yelled, trying to subdue me.

My eyes finally focused again, and I found myself staring into the ocean.

He was gone.

Another whimper left my lips, and I collapsed heavily against Sasha.

“I…I don’t know. _I don’t know_ ,” I cried.

I missed the blue-eyed stranger I knew nothing of.

 

* * *

 

That had been the incident that sent me packing back to the therapist’s office once again. I told the same kind-faced therapist everything, all of the eleven people I had seen.

She figured that it could be hallucinations. Figments of my imagination to cope with the stress after a traumatic accident. Or I could have chanced upon them in the four years that I remembered nothing of.

Either way, she asked me to return the following week. And so, my therapy sessions continued till I stopped screaming random names in my sleep, and till I stopped asking for ‘Jake’s dogtags’ – an accessory I never managed to find, despite wanting it so badly.

It has been 10 years since then. I am now an environmental lawyer, married to a wonderful man named Zig Ortega (you guessed it, we met at Hartfeld), with a tiny bundle of joy on the way. I never recovered my memories, yet I cannot be happier, or content.

I still see glimpses of these strangers here and there. I am used to it by now, and no longer react too much. I only smile at them fondly. They give me a sense of comfort no one else seems to be able to give. Don’t get me wrong, my husband means the world to me, and his warm hug could make everything right in a second. But you know the kind of ease and contentment you feel when you are with your best buds? The kind where you feel literally invincible? That is what I feel when I see the strangers.

I still feel an unexplained pang of hurt and nostalgia when I catch glimpses of them, but it’s just a dull ache, now. I am only happy I see the strangers from time to time. They lighten my mood. They enrich my soul. They make me feel as if I can conquer the world. They will remain my tiny little secret, one I will lock away in a small corner of my heart.

And so I write an ode to the strangers, ones so familiar, yet so foreign. Who knows? Perhaps I will finally be able to remember them one day.

*******

_I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,_  
_I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,_  
_I am to see to it that I do not lose you._

 

* * *

 

 **A/N:** This made more sense in my head, to be honest. I feel like something went wrong during the transmission from my brain to the document, because I am still trying to write better. I hope the essence of the story came through.

** Notes- **

  1. Assumption of the timeline: TF/TS gang were in Freshman when the ES gang were Seniors. Myra’s ‘accident’ erased her memory and education received in the four years, so she had to repeat her four years, making her four (or three) years older than the TF/TS gang, but is now in the same year as them. Yes, Zig is younger than her (perhaps a year or two).
  2. Aleister apologised to MC because I feel like he’d feel responsible for his father’s actions and being unable to stop it? I hadn’t even planned it, it just happened as I wrote. Just wanted to explain that bit.
  3. This entire saga is LONG, so if you lasted, BLESS YOU ONCE AGAIN, I LOVE YOU.



 


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